Would Justin Welby be embarrassed to own shares in my bank?

The financial sector as a whole isn't the most salubrious industry to be in.

Last month, I took out a loan that had an effective APR of 243,333 per cent. But I didn't go to a payday lender to do it. Although the worst of them do offer loans with interest rates in the hundred thousands, a more typical cost of a payday loan is something like Wonga, which cites a representative APR of 5,853 per cent on its website.

No, instead, I took out an authorised overdraft at my bank. I didn't mean to, you understand; a Kickstarter project I'd backed finished, and charged me about £15. The email was caught by a spam filter, and I'd forgotten it was coming, so my mental accounting was thrown out of whack. By the time I found out, I'd been overdrawn by 17p for two days. For that privilege, my bank charged me the princely sum of £2.

Just for comparison, Wonga themselves, the arch-villain of the day, would have charged me a third of a penny, if they did loans that small, though their handling fee would have been much larger.

In my defence, I'm not an entirely ignorant consumer. The bank account I have does have punitively high interest rates if you go slightly overdrawn, but at the same time, it pays me money for being in credit (something you won't find all that frequently these days). When I'm not an idiot, the two balance out to leave me slightly better off.

But it does leave me wondering at how we pick which companies are evil. Justin Welby, the archbishop of Canterbury, today says he is "embarrassed" to discover that the Church has a financial stake in Wonga. On a scale of one to ten, his embarrassment ranks "about eight", apparently. But where would an investment in my bank rank? Or is a bank a respectable institution, above criticism, even when the numbers involved tell a different story?

Part of the answer is that the numbers involved don't, in fact, tell the whole story. Quoting the interest rate for my bank is misleading: a better way of phrasing it is to say "I am charged £1 for every day I have an authorised overdraft between £0 and £500". The only reason why my effective APR was so high is because the amount I "borrowed" was so low. But for payday lenders, there's also other ways to phrase it which are less misleading. Wonga, for instance, charges interest of one per cent for every day the loan is taken out, plus a flat handling fee.

But there's also a question of business practices. It's fair to say that advising students to take out a payday loan instead of a student loan, for instance, is not particularly ethical. But then, neither is systematically selling insurance to people who don't need it and will never be able to claim on it, or lying about how much lending costs you in order to boost your profits. It's the financial sector as a whole which could do with a healthy dose of ethics, it seems.

A sign outside a 'Speedy Cash' cash loans shop on Brixton High Street. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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“Trembling, shaking / Oh, my heart is aching”: the EU out campaign song will give you chills

But not in a good way.

You know the story. Some old guys with vague dreams of empire want Britain to leave the European Union. They’ve been kicking up such a big fuss over the past few years that the government is letting the public decide.

And what is it that sways a largely politically indifferent electorate? Strikes hope in their hearts for a mildly less bureaucratic yet dangerously human rights-free future? An anthem, of course!

Originally by Carly You’re so Vain Simon, this is the song the Leave.EU campaign (Nigel Farage’s chosen group) has chosen. It is performed by the singer Antonia Suñer, for whom freedom from the technofederalists couldn’t come any suñer.

Here are the lyrics, of which your mole has done a close reading. But essentially it’s just nature imagery with fascist undertones and some heartburn.

"Let the river run

"Let all the dreamers

"Wake the nation.

"Come, the new Jerusalem."

Don’t use a river metaphor in anything political, unless you actively want to evoke Enoch Powell. Also, Jerusalem? That’s a bit... strong, isn’t it? Heavy connotations of being a little bit too Englandy.

"Silver cities rise,

"The morning lights,

"The streets that meet them,

"And sirens call them on

"With a song."

Sirens and streets. Doesn’t sound like a wholly un-authoritarian view of the UK’s EU-free future to me.

"It’s asking for the taking,

"Trembling, shaking,

"Oh, my heart is aching."

A reference to the elderly nature of many of the UK’s eurosceptics, perhaps?

"We’re coming to the edge,

"Running on the water,

"Coming through the fog,

"Your sons and daughters."

I feel like this is something to do with the hosepipe ban.

"We the great and small,

"Stand on a star,

"And blaze a trail of desire,

"Through the dark’ning dawn."

Everyone will have to speak this kind of English in the new Jerusalem, m'lady, oft with shorten’d words which will leave you feeling cringéd.

"It’s asking for the taking.

"Come run with me now,

"The sky is the colour of blue,

"You’ve never even seen,

"In the eyes of your lover."

I think this means: no one has ever loved anyone with the same colour eyes as the EU flag.

I'm a mole, innit.